


i will always land on you like a sucker-punch

by dreadedlaramie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Horror, Gore, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, gross as in problematic but also as in gross, scott mccall is an angel who deserves better than everything in this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4259718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadedlaramie/pseuds/dreadedlaramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nogitsune feeds off the dark and hidden things of the soul -- off cruelty and anger and jealousy, off conflict and chaos and frustration -- and brings them to the surface, makes them grow, on and on and on until it's stopped.<br/>There's a reason it picked Stiles.</p>
<p>(an au of that sword scene in 03x19)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will always land on you like a sucker-punch

**Author's Note:**

> OK SO i haven't watched teen wolf in literally two full years but here i am again anyway.  
> what can i say, this scene speaks to me on a horrible, fundamental level.
> 
> this isn't happy, this isn't nice, you may regret all the choices that led you to this point

The nogitsune feeds off the dark and hidden things of the soul -- off cruelty and anger and jealousy, off conflict and chaos and frustration -- and brings them to the surface, makes them grow, on and on and on until it's stopped.  
There's a reason it picked Stiles.

\--

Scott's leaned up against a table breathing hard with a sword in his gut and Stiles doesn't know what he wants (to be the sword, to be the wound).

He can hear all the pain that Scott is bearing crackle buzz hum beneath skin, as loud and dizzying as his heart beating in his ears, and he's absolutely giddy with it, light-headed and bright-eyed.

He taps out an irregular beat on the handle of the sword, reminiscent of the restless way he'll tap his fingers up and down Scott's side when they fool around. Stiles is all perpetual motion, and the nogitsune's coiled spring attentiveness just drives home how much _this_ isn't Stiles. (except what no one will say is that it _is_ , distilled down to the worst of him. What no one will say is when it comes down to it, they get why the nogitsune picked him.)

Stiles grabs the hilt and twists. Hard.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, mock-curious and enthralled. Stiles can feel Scott's pain rush up his spine and burst in his skull like euphoria, can feel the nogitsune stretch catlike around his heart in response. Every twist of the sword just barely scrapes the blade against vertebrae and echoes the friction back. Scott groans and instinctively tries to pull back, but all this means is that he's more off-balance when Stiles shoves the sword in further, guard flush with skin. The edges of his injury pull and tear from the new angle, and the nogitsune purrs contently with each fresh burst of pain.

There is no gentle way to pull a sword from a stomach wound, and Stiles doesn't particularly try for one. It scrapes lightly on bone as it exits, drags a little. Stiles drops it unceremoniously on the floor and it clatters down somewhere near Kira's feet.

And then there it is.

The wound is far bigger than reasonable for a weapon of that size and delicacy, but calculations for that rarely take into account... extenuating circumstances. The edges of it are ragged and torn, pulled open just as much as cut open. If you were to look into it (and Stiles is), you could see nearly straight through to the x-rays on display, the hint of Scott's spine so close to lining up with one of the lit up ones behind him. Stiles wonders whether or not, if he looked closely enough, he could watch Scott knit himself back together.

He presses three fingers inside until his knuckles rest against Scott's skin. There's a part of Stiles that wishes Scott had been stabbed in the heart, that instead of folds of intestine, he felt muscle and metaphor.

Scott watches him and winces, but Stiles doubts Scott can actually _feel_ this, at least as an individual sensation. There's a point where pain blurs together and becomes a part of you more than it is something that's happening to you. _Where does it hurt? Yes._

He can feel the tug of each ragged breath around his fingers, can feel the slick warmth of viscera, can feel the press of a body trying to heal itself, can feel the pulse of Scott's rapid and irregular heartbeat. What he can feel most, though, is the nogitsune screaming delighted in the pit of his stomach, ecstatic at the static electric arcs of Scott's pain across Stiles' fingers as they move.

What Stiles wants (and that's never really a cut-and-dry question) is to tear Scott open with his bare hands, reveal every inch of innards inside him, know him blood and guts and all. Stiles doesn't know what he wants.

He curls his fingers, presses his blunt nails against muscle, feels them tense reflexively against the tips of his fingers. Stiles pulls his fingers out and the nogitsune is nearly shrieking with frustration ( _so close so close tear rip shred find find important need_ ).

Stiles licks his fingers clean slowly, cherishing the moment. With his other hand, he grabs the side of Scott's neck and forces Scott to look at him. And then, he makes the pain go away.

It is the most _amazing magnificent beautiful_ thing he has ever felt all the pain and conflict and hurt boiling up inside his veins and _finally finally finally_ and it's vision-whiteout glorious and the nogitsune has distilled down to a single ecstatic note ringing in his ears.

Stiles is gasping from the sheer magnitude of it and then he's gasping because Scott has punched him in the gut.

"Sorry," Scott says and now Stiles is on the ground and without looking Stiles knows that Scott's expression is only of concern and love rather than anger. Stiles feels a rush of guilt at that knowledge that slices through the blinding light in his head (and he can feel too the nogitsune pull back a little at that, a sour taste among something otherwise divine). Stiles is already hazy, overwhelmed and winded, and it's not terribly surprising when he passes out.

**Author's Note:**

> major thanks to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing; major apologies to the people who didn't know i was writing this of all things; etc etc  
> not writing for that aforementioned literal two years made this reeallly hard to do wow


End file.
